Walking on the wildside

We spotted this froggy in our pond,

enjoying the gentle sploshing of water from the solar powered lilypad.

And then the pigeons moved in,

sunbathing on the patio.

They didn't hang around long when Archie woke up ...

 

A return visit

After avoiding getting signed up at Chiltern Open Air Museum

as dogs of war on Saturday, we returned for a Sunday morning stroll ...

The Madwoman was convinced that the redcoats wore

red coats so the blood didn't show, but this turned out to be a myth.

Apparently it is all down to Cromwell, who wanted to fit out his New Model Army in matching 

uniforms to make them more ... well, uniform. And red was the cheapest

available material.

That told old Smarty-Pants- Know-it-all Madwoman, and

with our heads now stuffed full of knowledge we strolled on ...

We got pamphleteered by the Green Pimpernel, a new breed of

British superhero fighting for Truth, Justice, Equality, but not, apparently, Fraternity.

 Then we watched a poacher getting apprehended - you can watch the video of it over

on the Museum's Facebook page if you fancy a bit of gratuitous violence ... 

(no wippitts were hurt during the filming)

On our way down to the woods we spotted something odd in the

Toll House's back garden ... we were fascinated ...

This is what it turned out to be.

Must be having trouble with keeping the pigeons out.

We have the same problem at home.

Finally, out in the woods, someone has been

spring-cleaning. And has kindly painted our pee-posts ...

what do you reckon to this shade of blue?

If wippitts could fly ...

Yeah? Come down here and say that!

Have you missed us? The Madwoman has been hogging the computer recently so we haven't had a chance to post a blog for ages ... although we haven't wasted the time either. As well as the usual vole watching (less strenuous in this hot weather than vole hunting, about as productive and just as satisfying) and napping, we have been diligent in keeping the garden free of pigeons. They seem to be particularly brazen and loutish this year; they have been pinching the birdseed the Madwoman puts out for the little brown ones, and have overcome all fear of the things that normally scare them off the allotment. They now have a healthy respect for us though, after a couple of close shaves when they had the nerve to invite themselves into the garden while we were out on cat patrol. Notice how this particularly cowardly one stays out of reach on the roof, taunting Archie from a safe distance.
One day wippitts will learn how to fly, and then they'll be really, really sorry ...